Capital Vices
by gabarella-chan
Summary: Greed, wrath, sloth, pride, envy, gluttony, lust; the cardinal sins of Damon Salvatore and Bonnie Bennett. Seven-shot. Bamon.
1. GREED

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **AH! There's always more room in the fanfiction world for Bamon, right? I'm sure there have been _tons_ and _tons_ of these kinds of prompts, but I've always wanted to write this kind of seven-shot for these two feisty characters. I've already gotten all the chapters written, so it all depends on you guys' reviews if I ever upload 'em! Hope all you fellow Bamon shippers enjoy :)

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><p><strong>1 – GREED<br>**_The overwhelming desire for more._

Damon Salvatore was greedy.

He didn't just want _some_ of her. He wanted _all_ of her_._

Some may have blamed that on his nature, Lord knew Elena did. Hell, for a while, Damon even thought his being a vampire and having to deal with his undying _need_ for more and more of what he could not have – or _who_ he could not have was all in relation to his… greater purpose.

He, of course, concluded that that was bullshit.

Though he cringed just thinking about the year 1864, he often reminisced about his human life. When he'd fallen in love with a woman who was more in love with his brother. He thought about how much he was smitten with Katherine Pierce, how much he had wanted her. _All_ of her.

He chuckled darkly to himself now when he thought back to the days when he had desired such a cruel, heartless creature. The irony of how the tables were now turned on him now that a certain goody-goody witch completely consumed his mind, and she couldn't stand the sight of him because he was exactly how Katherine had been, enraged dark feelings within his soul.

Damon was cruel, heartless – a soulless killer. A powerful, hungry, brutal being.

_Greedy._

Not all the scotch, vodka or Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey in the world could satisfy the intensifying, longing ache buried deep in the pits of his stomach. Not enough blood of random, easily seduced fraternity girls or the very few residents of Mystic Falls he was still able to compel, could sedate his hunger the way _she_ could.

Bonnie Bennett should not have given him a taste.

She shouldn't have allowed her warm, spirited, _intoxicating_ blood to pass his lips and make a home on his tongue.

Because now, sitting in the study of the Salvatore mansion, head thrown back on the couch, dangerous blue eyes sweeping across the ceiling, a glass half-full of weak amber liquid, Damon decided it was time for a _real_ drink.

The glass made a clinking noise when he set it down harshly on the coffee table, leftover alcohol splashing on the worn cover of one of, he supposed, Stefan's journals. He got up; heading for the door, a primal look descending upon his features as he blurred his way to the witch's home.

He'd be sure to _force_ his way in, invited or not.

And if she dared to protest, he'd shut her up with the sensation of his lips, the way he'd done so many times before.


	2. WRATH

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Wow, you guys! Thank you so much for all of your reviews – they're greatly, _greatly_ appreciated, I cannot stress that to you enough. I particularly find dark fics hardest to write, which weirdly is the fun part for me. It just causes me to expand my mind and really dive into the darkest, coldest parts of our dearly beloved characters and help get a better understanding of them, which is always useful in the world of fanfic, so I'm glad you guys liked the first part. Here's another for ya! :)

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><p><strong>2 – WRATH<br>**_The feeling of extreme anger; a boiling point._

Hell hath no fury like a powerful witch scorned.

_Fuck this_.

Bonnie Bennett was through showing mercy to the same creature that continued to kill off her family members and carelessly harm her friends. She was done playing nice, negotiating, keeping her instincts in control.

She knew going after the whole race of vampires would be a tiring, pointless idea. While she was a supernatural being herself, she was still a human being. Her heart still pumped, fresh, hot blood every moment she spent breathing. She was _alive_. And she knew better than anyone that death followed life, for everything that thrived on the planet it walked upon.

She wasn't going after all of them. No. Tonight she had one very specific dead motherfucker she wanted to permanently erase from existence.

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><p>She didn't even bother to knock as she summoned all she had in her to vigorously swing open the front door to the Salvatore home, the wood nearly breaking in half as it unnaturally clashed with the wall beside it. She jumped a little, realizing her anger had gotten the better of her. She'd planned to execute that a little less forcefully.<p>

Oh well. She wasn't here to sell any cookies.

Her boots crunched against the hard tiles of the floor. She noticed the wood made an odd creaking noise, as if it were going to cave any second. She gracefully stepped around the loose board, her green eyes blazing ahead.

The house was eerily silent. The only sounds that passed her ears were the hollow whispers of the October wind, the rustling of the fallen leaves outside. Her eyes swept across the study, eyeing the shelves and shelves of books and journals, giving a slight disgusted scoff at the fact that while the bastard wasn't out slaughtering babies for sport, he was actually _reading._

Bonnie tried to remember what that "favorite" book of his was – _Call of The Wild_ by Jack London? Bonnie scoffed again.

_Fucking load of shit._

A sudden burst of wind behind her and a quick _whoosh_ing sound alerted her ears. Her dark locks flew into her face at the sudden quick movement of the beast, covering her eyes until she instinctively jerked her head, causing them to fall over her shoulders once more. She was not alone.

Good.

She needed this over with, out of her head.

Bonnie slipped her hand inside the inside pocket of her jacket, gripping the wooden stake she'd sharpened earlier that night. She tightened the wood around her dainty fingers, the magic yearning to spill from the tips of them.

While she could not see Damon, she could feel him. Her stomach churned with disgust and a twinge of longing. Longing to see the smug creature before she ended him.

He was playing games. He was toying with her the way all arrogant, barbarous vampires did. If she'd learned anything from her unfortunate experience of the abnormal, it was that creatures who wielded extreme, out-of-this-world power, loved to fuck around with their enemies. Always putting on a show, wasting time, wasting energy.

Bonnie had no time for that, no desire to spend any more time on Damon Salvatore than required.

She didn't have to turn around to know he was behind her. With her wicked powers came useful kinks such as an overwhelming sense of feeling. Just as she could feel the raw beauty of nature, she could feel the presence of death, the darkness.

It had almost pulled her under once before, and she swore to herself that she would not allow that to happen again.

She would not get so foolishly sucked into the charisma of Damon Salvatore.

But as she turned around, planning to be as defiant as ever, as _strong_ as she felt in her bones, peering into the most beautiful of blues she'd ever had the opportunity to gaze in, she felt her hand loosen less and less on the weapon in her now shaky hands.

The look in his eyes was something deep, unrecognizable. He was either excruciatingly pissed, or excruciatingly impressed. Bonnie felt frustration creep immensely into her being, swelling up in her chest, her jaw clenching and unclenching.

That was the thing with vampires. You never knew their real emotions, if they had any at all. Bonnie suddenly wanted to be inside his head, violate it – snoop around every part of his mind, manipulating it the way he did to everyone else.

She wanted to make him hurt, as angry and riled up as she was.

She closed her eyes and silently chanted a quick _deos inimicos voco te lacatare hoc vile creatura ad locum no ponere,_ which caused Damon to fly six feet across the room. Bonnie let out a breath she did not realize she had been holding.

Damon was quick on his feet, and in one quick movement, he was on her, throwing _her_ six feet across the room. She was lucky her head didn't collide with anything solid; though the force of the blow caused her to feel lightheaded and she was sure her ass would be sore for days, a week, tops.

If she made it out alive, that was.

"Came here to kill me, huh, Bon?" Damon snarled, dark veins creeping around his eyes, fangs gleaming in the dim lighting. He was approaching her, smirk plastered on his face, looking down on Bonnie as he began to form a shadow over her.

Bonnie's hand instinctively went to her jacket, the sudden comfort of the stake there was gone and her heart rate sped up as she slowly looked up at Damon.

"Looking for this?" he taunted, twirling the sharp wood around in his hand, pacing around her. Bonnie gritted her teeth and mentally cursed herself for not being on her p's and q's around him.

She eyed his daylight ring as he passed her fallen form.

Bonnie managed to get herself up before he was on her again, this time; her back was up against the wall, just near the fireplace. Her breath caught as her head slammed into the hard surface, Damon's indescribable, intoxicating scent fired up her nose, her mind beginning to slow.

His face blurred suddenly as the stake he held came into vision, pointed side up, mocking her failure. With an applied pressure of his fingers, the wood snapped in half, almost into a million little splints as he threw it to the floor, barely making a noise.

Bonnie then felt the oddly soft and gentle fingertips of his hands slowly caressing the skin where her jugular vein lived, goosebumps quickly prickling her tender flesh. His fingers went back and forth across her hammering pulse, teasing her, _reminding_ her.

He let out a short breath of approval at her fear, a small grin masking his lips as the veins in his face vanished. When his eyes met hers, the white of them were no longer red, covering his irises. But they were still terrifying.

They were still _Damon._

"What is it..." he began, suddenly breaking the heavy silence that stung in the air between them, "What is it about you Bennetts that gives you the courage and the _stupidity_ to try and take on a vampire?"

He breathed all of these words out, voice husky and taunting, rendering Bonnie silent. She just stared and listened as he lightly caressed her jaw with his fingers, sharp sensations of unwanted longing sparking beneath her. She had to restrain herself from bucking underneath him. She just did what she did best; locking eyes with him she lifted her chin defiantly and let the pain flow out of her head to his. One by one she was popping his blood vessels. She hoped it hurt worse than it ever did before. She could feel a satisfied grin pull at her lips as the oldest Salvatore suddenly was on his knees, both hands on his head, his face twisted in agony, giving her one of the coldest stares he could muster with the amount of discomfort he was in.

She looked down on him, suddenly remembering why she was here in the first place. She embraced her power, getting down to his level, dangerously close as she spat the words: "It's not courage, and it's not stupidity, Damon. It's _power._ Something I have and you don't. You never have."

She broke heated eye contact with him and picked up what was left of the stake he had broken in half. She slowly felt the weapon up; examining it as if it were the first time she'd seen one. She then looked at him; he was on his back now, still gripping his head, turning redder and redder by the second.

She held the pointed part of the half-stake down, with both hands, ready to use all her power and all her force to drive it through the sorry excuse for a heart he owned. She found herself lifting the stake higher and higher, eyes set to kill.

She quickly brought the object down, only to stop halfway there. She released her hold over him; slowly removing the aneurysm from his boiling brain, swallowing what she assumed was her pride. She quickly shook off whatever she was feeling and went for the gusto again, failing. She did this several times, earning confused looks from the enemy and eventually threw the broken thing back to the floor.

Damon slowly sat up, eyes blazing, trying to recover as Bonnie sat stock still, trying to see past him, trying to think of everything but why she could not, _would_ not kill him.

"You can't do it, can you?" Damon ground out, breathing heavily, eyes holding hers. "Wonder what that means."

She was beginning to wonder herself.


	3. SLOTH

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Thank you guys so much for reviewing! Sorry if this took a while. I'm probably the laziest writer on here. Oh wells! Hope you enjoy :)

**DISCLAIMER:** TVD belongs to who it belongs to, and that is not me.

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><p><strong>3 - SLOTH<br>**_Laziness._

Maybe he'd kill her tomorrow.

He was going to have a little fun first. He watched her with hateful eyes, his lips curled into a sneer. He was tingling with what he could only think of as self-satisfaction. His eyes swept over her sleeping form, hating how she still managed to look beautiful in such a compromising position.

He watched as her back heaved up and down, her breathing choppy and irregular. She was hunched over in the torture chair, her fragile wrists locked in those ever so convenient metal straps. Her hair shadowed her face, slightly damp with, from what he could smell, was blood.

Damon snarled as he felt his inner demon threatening to take over. He could feel the veins sneaking across his features. His fangs were teasing his tongue. As quickly as it had risen deep inside of him, the hunger suppressed as his mind took control of his appetite.

He wouldn't drink her now. He wanted her conscious for that.

He felt a low, almost unrecognizable chuckle vibrate in the back of his throat as he gazed at her vulnerable form. He wanted to watch her body react against the very thing that thrived within her. All amusement he felt vanished as his cold, icy eyes strayed from her and onto the object he clenched in his right hand.

It was small, sure. But he knew it would make her scream. The dark sound of amusement in the back of his throat was born again as he ignited the lighter in his hand. He was going to get her back with the very thing he knew she _lived_ to use on him.

Fire.

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><p>Bonnie hesitated before opening her eyes. Not for fear of what she might see, but because she was afraid she wouldn't be able to see anything at all. Her head felt as if it'd been driven over, crushed with a grand piano, and then backed over with a two-by-four for good measure.<p>

Her legs felt numb, as if all the blood had rushed to her hands, which felt like they'd been electrocuted. Her eyes were heavy when she pried them open, and it took a while for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of wherever the hell she was.

She could make out the shape of her legs, her hands, and her feet. She could feel the locks of her hair stick to her forehead, mixed with blood and sweat. It was only when the silver cuffs her wrists were trapped in, strapped to an uncomfortable, battered mahogany chair gleamed in the moonlight, streaming from an uncovered window that she remembered why she felt as injured as she was.

_Damon_, she thought. She hissed as she tried to turn her head to get a better view of her surroundings, and found, unsurprisingly, that her neck was excruciatingly sore.

Bonnie lifted her head, ignoring the pain and a sudden chill crept over her. Goosebumps slithered on her bare arms, as her eyes met Damon Salvatore's torso. She strained her eyes and kept her whimpers nill as she stared up at him.

His eyes were distant, unkind as they bored into hers. She swallowed the bile that had risen in the back of her throat, suddenly not feeling as defiant as she usually did around him.

She was off her game and it was all _his_ fault. She inwardly cursed herself for how fucking stupid she was to ever trust a single word he said. Every sentence he spat was a lie. Every single one. For once, he got the jump on her. Damon was surely living up to his reputation of kicking a man when he's down. Bonnie, however, swore to herself that she'd never let herself be taken by surprise.

She'd danced with the devil, and it only led her to its lair. She would have punched herself if her hands weren't restrained. She felt her arms tug and pull, but the steel only pinched her reddened skin.

She cleared her aching throat, "Where the hell –"

"Ah-ah-ah." Damon cut her off. He looked as if he was waiting for her to speak so he could interrupt her. "Play first, talk later."

Bonnie's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and her mouth twisted in fear as she watched him walk around her, coming to a stop behind her. She felt his cool hands snake their way across her shoulders, his touch as light as a feather. Her body reacted involuntarily as she whimpered at his soft touch. She thought she heard him growl as his fingertips slid across her jugular vein, his breath cooling her hot skin. She shivered.

"How are we doing tonight, Bonnie?" Damon taunted, whispering the mocking words in her ear, his lips moving against her skin. "Feeling strong?"

"Fuck you," Bonnie spat, feeling her temperature rise. She was tired of the games.

Damon cupped the back of her neck hard, as if trying to choke her from behind. His words were spoken low and menacing. "Is that a promise?" he hissed, gripping her neck tighter. "Be careful what you wish for, you just might get to some day."

Bonnie spit at the far wall in front of her, writhing in the chair, trying to get her hands off of her.

"Over my dead body," she dared.

"Oh, I intend to," Damon countered, sounding serious. "But not until..." Bonnie could hear a scraping noise and a slight cackling sound from behind her. "We have a little chat."

Bonnie swallowed as he walked back around to the front of her. This time, he held what looked like a hot poker in his hand. She raised an eyebrow before she met his smug face.

Bonnie noticed the hot poker was already heated at the tip, like it was already placed in a fire. She quickly registered that that was the cackling noise behind her. Damon had set up a fire behind her.

"Look at you," Bonnie began, trying her best to be strong. Damon raised an eyebrow, looking seemingly interested in what she had to say. "I'm getting the Mason Lockwood treatment? How original. I must be special."

He smirked. "Says the witch who's never used any other method of attack against me other than migraines and third-degree burns."

Bonnie rolled her eyes as best as she could. "What are you going to do, Damon, huh? _Kill_ me? You think I'm _afraid_ to die? I've been prepared for this since the day I discovered who I was."

Damon twisted the hot poker in his hands, looking down at it with faux admiration. His eyes met hers again and he held her gaze for a moment. He sighed.

"I don't know what it is Bonnie that makes me feel the need to hurt you," he confessed, his eyes holding hers.

"Maybe because you're a raging psychopath. That ever cross your mind?" Bonnie suggested.

"_Or_ maybe it's because you provoke me. You and all the rest of your little Scooby gang - which, I gotta say, if it's lead by Elena, that's kind of depressing, even for me."

Bonnie didn't know why she could not just ignore his words. She couldn't resist telling him off, though. Anytime, anyplace, she was ready for a verbal throwdown.

"Elena doesn't _lead_ anything," she clarified. "We're what people call _friends_. Our goals aren't to overpower each other like you and Stefan seem to do; it's to protect each other... And why are you finding this funny?" Bonnie glared at his laughing face.

"Did you hear what you just said?"

Bonnie blinked. "I was there when I said it."

"I just find it – what's the word? – _ironic_ that the one time you need protection, no one is here to help you."

Before Bonnie could send a retort Damon's way, she found her words cut off with an ear-piercing scream. It didn't take her long to realize it was hers. She hissed as the hot poker Damon had in his hand detached from the seared flesh of her right arm.

She looked up at him, eyes burning with stubborn tears. Whatever was in her expression seemed to alter his. He almost looked apologetic.

"Not so tough now, are you, little witch?"

His words proved otherwise.

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><p>He'd been torturing her for three days. He'd left marks on every part of her body. Every part except her face. He could not, for whatever reason, stand to harm it. Maybe if she'd pretended the pain wasn't there, pretended to be completely oblivious to the fresh, open wounds he'd left on her, he would have been able to destroy her beauty.<p>

But as he stared at her tired, exhausted figure, he saw that there was no chance of her beauty being destroyed.

Damon twisted the hot poker in his hands, his night-adjusted eyes still on her. He didn't feel like killing her. Not tonight. He laughed to himself at the fickleness that always overpowered him when it came to Bonnie Bennett. One day, he wanted her dead, the other, he wanted her around.

"What is it about you, Bonnie?" he sighed, knowing she wasn't conscious enough to hear him. "What is it…?"

He suddenly dropped the hot poker with a clank to the ground and ran a hand through his messy black hair. Tonight, he wouldn't kill her.

Maybe tomorrow night.

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><p><strong>END NOTE: <strong>I hope this wasn't too confusing! In WRATH I did a take on Bonnie not being able to kill Damon, and in this chapter, I wanted to do a take on Damon not being able to kill Bonnie. _He _seems to think it's because he's lazy when it comes to killing her, but I think we all know better. ;) Reviews are lovely!


	4. ENVY

**4 – ENVY  
><strong>_Jealousy.  
><em>

He could have anybody, anybody he wanted. Whether they were willing or unwilling, Damon Salvatore had the power to manipulate, devour, and control every breathing, living thing that he desired. Compelling was like taking candy from a baby – easy, amusing, and – though he didn't give a fuck – _wrong._ And if he so happened to come across one of those highly inconvenient human blood bags with vervain laced in their system, he had other ways of charming his victims without using his supernatural powers. A little intense gazing, one of his many charming smiles, maybe the occasional innocent hand caress, and they'd be on their knees. Humans were so foreseeable, so fucking transparent. That's why half the time, he didn't even bother to take over their minds before he fed on them. He wanted to hear them scream. Sure, their fear would always be predictable, but for some delicious reason, he simply never got tired of watching them quiver beneath his hungry gaze.

That night, Damon had originally planned on stalking through the safe neighborhoods of Mystic Falls. He was itching to turn them all into bloodbaths. But with all the risks of being caught being a vampire these days, he figured he couldn't possibly get to _all_ the families of the neighborhood without getting away unharmed. He was fast as lightning, but he didn't _feel_ like giving a shit whether or not he could be discovered.

His inner struggle was short-lived however, when he felt more than saw a certain green-eyed witch walking arm in arm with some guy Damon could not make out across the street. _"Bonnie," _he heard himself hissing. He swiftly shadowed himself behind a tree, slightly peeking his head out. Good, she hadn't seen him.

Who the fuck was she with?

Bonnie's black high-heeled boots click-clatted on the the smooth pavement, slicing through the silence of the midnight air. Damon's eyes narrowed as Bonnie and the mystery man came to a stop at her door. Damon couldn't resist eavesdropping. He grazed his hands against the tough tree trunk and did just that.

"I had a really nice time, Darren," Bonnie whispered, not wanting to be too loud. She didn't expect to be coming back home so late. She wasn't expecting to meet this stranger. A small smile played at her lips. She stared back into exceptionally warm brown eyes. Darren returned her smile, a much wider one than her own. "Thank you," she added.

"No, thank you. This is the first time I've been attracted to someone in a while," Darren admits, a nervous chuckle exiting his throat.

Bonnie's eyes widen slightly and her mouth twitches in satisfaction. Well! If that wasn't a compliment, she didn't know what was. She willingly places her hand in his offered one and he lifts the front of her hand to meet his lips. They brush slightly against her knuckles and she surpresses a giggle. No guy was that gentlemanly.

Before she could give him a modest answer, Bonnie felt her body tense up in the way it only did when she was in the presence of a specific _thing._She quickly closed her eyes and released her hand from Darren's. Darren took notice and frowned.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asked, looking dumbfounded. Bonnie felt her heart tighten in sorrow as she looked up at his confused face. She needed to get him away from here. Now. She didn't want another guy hurt because of her.

Bonnie quickly shook her head. "No, it's nothing. I'm just tired. I need to get to bed. But I had a great time." She gives him the best smile she can muster before fishing out her keys from her purse, keeping her eyes trained on her door. Darren was still standing there. She looked up at him and let out a dismissive, "goodnight." He nodded and sauntered off. She let her eyes follow him until he was way out of sight and quickly shoved her keys back into her bag.

The gush of wind at her back and the way her hair flew in around her face was all the indication she needed. She swallowed and decided attacking him would be pointless. It always ended the same with Damon. Keeping her back to him, she cleared her suddenly dry throat.

"What do you want, Damon?"

"Ugh," he groaned. "So, _so_ many things, Bon-Bon. What an utterly vague question. You gotta be a _little_ more specific than that."

Bonnie did her best to ignore her right hand becoming a fist. She couldn't help it. She let out a deep breath and slowly turned around, expecting to find his expression smug and self-satisfied, as usual. It annoyed the living shit out of her. She could feel herself summoning her powers. If she knocked him back, she would have enough time to insert herself into the barrier between him and her known as her house. She wasn't a fool. She never invited him in and she never would.

When she finally turned herself around completely to face him, she felt her breath hitch in her throat. There was that look again. It halted her in her stance. He couldn't compell her. She knew he would never do that. But something in his eyes were trying to tell her something else. Something his mouth wouldn't - couldn't. She felt as though he was looking through her rather than at her. His icy eyes searched her emerald ones desperately. Whatever he was looking for, she was sure he'd find it if they kept up this staring contest. She swallowed as she watched his eyes darken as they slowly examined her frozen face.

Bonnie felt her body begin to shiver. She felt exposed as he gazed into her eyes. This was the closest they'd ever been without coming to blows. The thought made her head swim. That's what she should be doing. She should be attacking him relentlessly, not looking into his incredibly enticing blue eyes and trying to remember what it is she hated about him in the first place. She felt the hand holding her purse begin to weaken. She needed to get inside. She knew she did. But she could not, for the life of her, pull herself away from his intense gaze.

"You're dating?"

His words were so quiet, she was sure she'd imagined him saying it. But his raised eyebrows proved her to be right.

"That's none of your business," she murmured, her voice low. "Goodnight, Damon."

Bonnie felt her shoulder being slammed against the door, as Damon harshly turned her back around. "I'm not finished with you," Damon barked, his eyes full of rage.

Bonnie's eyes narrowed and she dropped her purse. She quickly lifted her fist, aiming for his nose as fast as she could, but it was a mere inch from her target before Damon's hand gripped her wrist tightly, causing her to cry out.

"You think this hurts?" Damon spat, speaking viciously fast. "Wait till I break every fucking bone in your little boyfriend's body. We'll see how much pain you'll be in then."

Bonnie took the opportunity to smack him with her free hand. From the way her hand stung, she'd gotten him good. His right cheek quickly turned from pale to tomato red, her hand-print clearly visible on his offended skin.

"You son of a bitch," Bonnie spat. She tried to hit him again but was warned with a slight twisting of her captured wrist. Damon ruthlessly wrapped his free hand around her throat, giving her neck a slight squeeze, warning her not to try that again.

"I know what you're doing."

Bonnie winced. He was in her ear, whispering too close. Too close...

"No," Bonnie breathed. "I know what _you're_ doing. Quit acting like a jealous ex-boyfriend. You're not and you never will -"

His grip tightened. "Jealous?" Damon scoffed. He pulled his head back to look into her green orbs. He was trying to look nonchalant. Trying to hide how he really felt. Bonnie could see right through him. Her lips twitched into a fraction of a smirk.

"What else would you call stalking me, scaring off every single one of the guys you see me with? Don't tell me you're doing it for my benefit. What I do with _my_ life has jack shit to do with_ you_, Salvatore. You'd do best to remember that."

"You saw me... with Elena... didn't you?" Damon challenged, his eyes shining in the reflecting moonlight. He knew damn well Bonnie saw him and Elena. He damned well wanted her to see them. He found it was the only way he could get the kind of reaction he wanted out of the little witch. He would have smirked had said witch not been giving him such a blood curdling look that somehow didn't look right on her exquisite face.

Bonnie swallowed, her eyes darkening. "Keep your mouth shut."

Damon raised an eyebrow. "Did I hit a nerve?"

"Let me go."

Damon held her eyes for a moment. "Never," he breathed, his sweet breath tickling her face as he brought his dangerously close to hers.

Damon's intense gaze held hers, never leaving her eyes. Even though Bonnie's eyes were aching to close, to look anywhere but at him, she couldn't, for the life of her, get them to listen to her. She swallowed on instinct, trying to remember the last time she ever felt so nervous, so _helpless_.

That was when she felt Damon's grip on her wrist loosen and soon he had her back up against the polished wooden door of her home, his chest pressed up against hers. He sighed deeply and placed his head on her right shoulder, his forehead grazing the door. Bonnie shivered at the way the wind blew his messy dark hair up against the skin of her neck, tickling her in a way that she should have found less than arousing.

"God, Bonnie," Damon whispered, his mouth moving against her skin. Bonnie couldn't help the shudder that went through her as goosebumped pricked her shoulder blade. She felt him raise his head as he brought his mouth to her ear. "What are you doing to me?"

It sounded like a plea more than a question. Nevertheless, she refused to answer such a ridiculous question. It wasn't what _she_ was doing to him, it was what _he_ was doing to her. Damon was deliberately trying to claim her as his while fucking her best friend who was _supposed _to be with his brother. Nothing was ever fucking simple with fucking vampires - pun intended.

Damon raised his head, searching her eyes, trying to coax an answer at of her. Bonnie tried to look as impassive as she could.

"Do you love her?" She felt herself whisper. Her eyes widened slightly once she registered her words, mirroring Damon's expression completely.

This was one question she'd always wanted the answer to. She knew Damon would do anything for Elena, she'd witnessed it and more. But when he was with her, she somehow felt... different. She didn't know, more _important_ than Elena. She didn't want that feeling to be a misunderstanding on her part. She had to_ know_.

Damon looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "Does it matter?" he reciprocated.

Bonnie began to shiver for a different reason. Was it anger? Rage? The green monster? She didn't want to know and she didn't care. Before she knew what she was doing, she'd lifted her purse off the ground, jammed her key into the keyhole and stepped inside her house. She slowly turned around, knowing her face was etched with whatever emotion she was feeling.

Damon's expression was unreadable.

"Wrong answer," Bonnie murmured, slamming the door in his face, not giving a fuck if she woke her dad up or not. She'd endure his yelling.

At least it would make her forget about a certain walking dead man, at least for a little while.

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><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE: <strong>Forgive me for the lateness. I hate to do this to people because I hate when stories I like take forever to get updated. But, I had to edit, get my mojo back and stuff, so I had reasons. I'll try to be faster on the last updates! :)


	5. GLUTTONY

**5 ****–**** GLUTTONY  
><strong>_The act of excessive eating or drinking._

"Please d-don't k-kill m-me."

This was almost his favorite part, the begging. The look of desperation in his victim's eyes, glossy with fear, her salty tears threatening to spill over and run down her pale cheeks, all blood drained from her pretty little face **–** from sheer uneasiness.

Most vampires thought the best part of being a vampire was the hunt. The stalking, the creeping - the way they were portrayed in movies and, much to Damon's dismay, bad television.

As for him, he preferred getting right down to business. He was quite impulsive, always ready to snap a neck and just as eager to tear out a few hearts. He wasn't a pussy vampire like his younger brother. Stefan was all about _feelings_ these days and _caring_ about the _feelings_ of other people and what they _cared_ about. It drove Damon mad. Who gave a shit how people felt? The only feelings he cared about were the little that he possessed. Fuck what human beings felt and wanted. The only thing that mattered was what _he_ wanted.

And right now, all he wanted was to drain every single drop out of this woman's body. The way he was holding her in his arms, had anyone happened to walk by, they'd have thought he and her were some couple, romantically gazing into each other's eyes or some typical thing like that. If they happened to come closer, they'd hear the erratic breathing of the female's and see the growing fear etched on her features. Damon held her in a vice-like grip, his arms wrapped around hers, so the only defenses she could possibly use were her head and feet.

For whatever reason, he didn't believe she was that stupid. She had to know what he was by now, and if she didn't catch on, the whites of his eyes turning red and dark veins tracing them had to give her some clue that he was not just any assaulter. He was not just going to attack her; he was going to _eviscerate_ her.

He felt the rush in his veins, the blood-lust consuming his mind to no end. Why this lady chose to take this path, of all paths, was beyond him. Apparently feeble young woman liked to take dirty old alleyways in downtown Virginia. It didn't faze him though, it only satisfied him. Sometimes, humans were oh-so convenient. They were always in the right place at the right time for Damon.

"Please, somebody, help me! Oh, God! Somebody, _help me!_" The woman's screams were of no use to her. It only made Damon chuckle, running his tongue along his fangs. "_PLEASE,_ somebody _PLEASE _help me!"

Her voice was becoming hoarse, and soon, her shouts and pleas were inaudible. Damon forcefully threw her up against the concrete wall, her skull making a pleasant cracking noise, all light in her eyes seeming to burn out. Cold sweat laced her forehead, running down the length of her nose. Her breathing was out of control. She was whispering now, still asking for some savior to rescue her from this compromising position. When she opened her mouth again, Damon figured he'd had enough. He took her head in his hands and quickly snapped her neck, causing her to slump against him. He held her head up by her hair, which was, without a doubt, the sweatiest he'd ever felt a girl's hair before. He then shoved his fangs into her jugular, draining what he summed up as his thirteenth victim of the night.

And he was still hungry. And there was only one person that could sedate his hunger.

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><p>They were a tangled mess. Hands roving through each other's hair, the occasional tug that caused who it belonged to let out a strangled grunt, as their lips were too preoccupied with each other's to speak. Damon was a hypocrite, he knew. Saying how much he didn't give a shit how humans felt and yet, there he was, <em>caring<em> about nothing more than pleasing the witch fidgeting beneath him.

He couldn't understand why she'd invited him inside her house. As far as he knew, Bonnie couldn't stand him. She resented vampires - especially evil, ruthless ones like him. So when she'd let the words "come in" slip from her all-too tempting throat, allowed him upstairs, into her bedroom without so much as giving him one of her classic aneurysms, he'd decided she was tricking him somehow.

But now they were in her bed, going at it like rabid animals, fully clothed, grinding and moaning, completely lost in whatever new dimension they'd stumbled upon. Damon broke their heated kiss and stared into her eyes, an unfathomable expression on her face. Her pink lips were parted and she was breathing hard, her hands still grappled in his hair.

"What**–**"

He cut her off with his lips again, an unknown emotion suddenly taking him over. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, taking it between his teeth and biting down gently **– **_too_ gently, eliciting a soft moan from Bonnie, who squirmed beneath him, no doubt seeking release. The thought of her being turned on by _him_; by her _needing him,_ spurned a more familiar feeling deep inside of him. He could feel his mind being clouded by the darkness that always consumed him, the one that so easily made him tear into people's throats without so much as a blink of an eye.

It especially didn't help when the tongue of the witch beneath him grazed one of his, now more obvious, fangs, causing a hint of her blood to collide with his penetrating tongue. A low growl escaped his throat as he tasted the most divine, mouth-watering life fluid of the night. A whimper escaped Bonnie's mouth as Damon sucked her tongue, licking at it and biting it harder, drawing more blood.

God, she tasted like no other! Was it because she was a witch? No, that couldn't be it. Witch or not, Bonnie was still a human. And no other human, especially none of the thirteen bodies of blood he'd had tonight tasted so… so _indefinable_, so delectable. She was on a different level from the others. She was out of this universe.

"Do you know how amazing you taste?" Damon ground out roughly against her parted lips, flicking his tongue over them before shoving it back into her mouth. He felt her twitch against him, probably because she could taste herself. Good. He wanted her to feel what she was doing to him. _Feel_ it.

Bonnie took his head in her hands and lifted it, his mouth leaving hers with an all-too arousing smack. His icy blue eyes were hazy and dark, and she could see the uncontrollable blood-lust in them. His vampire nature had completely taken him over. She licked her lips, his eyes drawn to them now, as he tried to lean in, she decisively moved her head to the side, causing his lips to meet her neck instead. Damon inhaled her scent audibly, his fangs itching to sink into her warm, tender flesh.

And he wanted to. He wanted to so fucking badly. But for some annoying reason unbeknownst to him, he wanted her to ask him, to give him her approval. His mind was becoming boggled. No one, whom he ever planned to drink from, had ever been able to break into his routine like this. His impulse always won, no matter what. So why the hell was he hesitating when all he wanted to do was devour her?

"Do it," he heard her breathe. "Do what you need to do."

She trusted him? He couldn't hide the look of shock on his face as he studied hers. She looked completely serious. Well, if she'd let him go this far…

His mouth hovered over her neck for a moment before he slowly, but surely pierced his fangs into the flesh, moaning as her blood flowed into his mouth freely. If there was a Heaven for vampires, Damon was positive this was what it was like. His eyes closed at the sensation of Bonnie's groans, feeling her nails clawing through the back of his t-shirt. It was pure bliss, the way her tangy, warm blood danced on his tongue, like it was meant to be there forever. His tongue lapped up the deep crimson fluid, causing breathy whimpers and other inaudible sounds from Bonnie. He was lost in it, lost in her. He had to stop. He had to stop before he drained every last ounce out of her.

He finally pulled back, and was pleased to see a look of delight on her face. Her breathing was calming down, and her eyes were becoming heavy.

_That would be the effect of excessive drinking,_ Damon thought smugly. He sat up, his knees on either side of her laying form, and brought his left wrist to his mouth, biting down. Bonnie's eyes widened as he brought his bleeding wrist down over her mouth and she squirmed beneath him.

"You need it," he assured her, his voice husky. "I drank too much."

Her eyes softened and she opened her mouth willingly, her tongue flicking over the skin of his wrist. He could see his blood coating her lips and he bit back a growl, pulling his wrist from her mouth when he figured she'd had enough.

He swiftly brought his lips back down on hers, ravishing her mouth, their mixed blood intoxicating his already confused brain. He didn't know why she was being so accepting tonight, and he really didn't care…

…Until he felt an unpleasant feeling wash over his stomach, a tense, burning feeling. He let out a choked breath as he gripped his abdomen, looking up into Bonnie's fiery green eyes.

"What," he choked, "did you do to me?"

Suddenly, she sat up, a little wobbly from the blood loss. Never the less, a smirk pulled at her blood-coated lips. A familiar rage filled her eyes.

"You like it? Before you got here, I was working on a new repelling spell. It makes a human's blood seem completely delicious to vampires. Different from how any other human's blood they've had," she explained, kicking him off her bed with force, causing him to hit the floor with a pained groan. "Sure, you think you're on cloud nine for a while, which is what the victim wants so that you can drink and drink and drink, all the while never realizing you're being poisoned the entire time. Unfortunately, this spell only works for an hour."

Damon coughed, feeling utterly weak and defenseless. He wanted so badly to rip her throat out. So that's why she'd invited him in and let him have his way with her. So she could try out her newest concoction on him.

"You… fucking… bitch," Damon wheezed, black blood shooting out of his mouth.

"Oh, and I also found a spell to _un-invite_ unwanted vampires into my house. Looks like you won't be staying the night after all," she sneered, sliding off her bed, standing over him.

Before he could grab her ankle and pull her to the ground, she chanted a quick, _"Exitus, malum mortuus!"_ Before Damon could register what was happening, the room seemed to be spinning, and he quickly found himself being shoved by an unseen force. Bonnie's bedroom door unlocked, opened, and Damon was soon being pushed down the stairs. The front door unlocked and opened as well, the force getting stronger. Soon, he was out the door. He watched as it slammed on its own, an audible click confirming that it was locked.

Damon gripped his middle and coughed again, feeling his insides tear. It had only been 2 minutes, tops, and he'd have to endure this fucking pain for one, whole _hour_. His eyes weakly looked up at Bonnie's window, to find her looking back, an irritably pleased look on her face.

That fucking _bitch_!

The pain didn't go away for three hours.

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><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE: <strong>Yay for the fastest I've ever updated! Poor Damon… But I guess that's what he gets for being such a pig, huh? Reviews are love.


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